Duplicate
by WeAllFlyHigh
Summary: The Jones-Williams' had one heir to their dynasty. To protect him, they commissioned the creation of a clone. They'll never admit which one of their "sons" is a clone, but everyone thinks they know. What they think about that is their business. What they do about it is Mathew's.


"And I'll be the hero."

Alfred spread his arms wide and unleashed an almost inhumanly bright smile. The classroom filled with laughter and admiring giggles. Even their teacher rolled her eyes good naturedly and gestured for Alfred to take his seat. He bowed with a flourish, prompting a smattering of applause and one wolf whistle. Then he strutted between the desks and collapsed into his seat beside another blond-haired teenager. He threw another smile at him, his teeth gleamed under the bright lights.

Beside Alfred, Mathew rolled his eyes with less amusement and more annoyance than their teacher. His extended exposure to Alfred's everlasting enthusiasm had given him an immunity to its charm. In short, Alfred had always been this energetic and Mathew had always been there to witness it.

Alfred's inhuman energy often meant that he would eagerly volunteer to do huge amounts of their group work. Mathew was always in the same group as him since Alfred never gave him another choice. Not that there ever was another choice. Now Mathew would admit that letting Alfred spend hours cutting out and gluing paper to poster had its benefits. Mainly that Mathew would be free to read or watch TV without having to fight for it beforehand. There were also some downsides, the crashing noises when he's trying to sleep and the massive amounts of glitter that often found its way into his bed, to name a few. The glitter was and would always be repulsive.

Basically, Mathew found that Alfred really was charming in the small doses everyone else gets, but his parents would never allow their "sons" to have separate rooms so only Mathew got to know how exhausting it could be.

Another student stood to give their presentation. They shared a high five with Alfred as they pass by. As they cleared their throat, a title slide featuring multicolored beakers lite up behind them. They would all be starting college applications soon, if they hadn't already. Each presentation was about a likely career choice that the student was interested in. They had to research; the schools that offered programs, the admission requirements, and the years of training involved.

Mathew had given his yesterday on business management, a fitting choice given his parents multi-million-dollar company. Alfred's had been on bioengineering, also a rational choice since that was business the Jones-Williams family dominated. Alfred's presentation had deviated to include a small discussion on the differences between cyborgs, robots and AIs; which was better, in his opinion, the most popular movies that featured each, and how they had done in the box offices. None of this had been in the outline Mathew had reviewed last night, although he wasn't surprised to hear any of it.

That was just how Alfred was, unreal.

As soon as the bell rang, Alfred's desk began to be swarmed by students. Athletes, cheerleaders, nerds; they all loved Alfred. Even the loners lingered to say a word before throwing their bags over their shoulders and stalking out. Mathew dodged their elbows and notebooks and slipped out unnoticed. He would say that he was invisible, but that wasn't the case. They all saw him. They just didn't care.

The "brothers" had both been a marvel when they started school here. Most of their classmates had been cycling through the same private schools all their lives. After years of trying, Alfred had finally managed to convince their parents with a poster that had contained so much neon it was legitimately nauseating to free them from their private tutors. Although it may have been the tutors that obtained true freedom in the end. As a result of their triumph, the "brothers" hadn't been able to scratch their noses in the schools hallways without some classmates whispering amongst themselves like they had just witnessed either an amazing feat or an unheard-of mistake.

It was almost worse than the security cameras at home. At least they had never been capable of making up gossip when they had nothing better to do.

Mathew didn't know how much he could blame his peers for the rumors. Alfred and Mathew went by the last name of Jones and Williams respectively, but their parents were the infamous Mr. George and Mrs. Mary Ann Jones-Williams. Each of them had come into the marriage with so much name recognition that having their mother give hers up had been unthinkable. Their collected wealth equaled that of some countries, and if the rumor was to be believed they privately controlled at least one.

All of this was demonstrated and overshadowed by the largest rumor pertaining to the Jones-Williams'. It was the big open secret of high society. One of the Jones-Williams' boys wasn't a son at all, but a clone.

It was both completely unheard of and not uncommon at all. Was there ever a better way to ensure someone's health and wellbeing? No, not if you could afford cloning. A clone was a warm identical organ match and docile body double to take a hit for you. And as an additional bonus you got to shove it in everyone's face. Only the top one percent of the top one percent of the one percent of the- Mathew had never done the math, but the point was it took an obscene amount of money and it wasn't something you could come into later in life. A body had to be grown organically even if it was made inorganically. You couldn't predict how growth procedures would affect a clone and you never knew which organs you would need.

Paranoid? Yes, it was. Was it effective? Well there were still two of them.

The Jones-Williams had only one son and they were determined to keep him safe. The means were trivial. Not that they ever admitted that one of their sons was a clone of the other. No amount of determined reporters, snide colleagues, or terrible relatives would convince them otherwise.

It was obvious that the clone was not a perfect copy, whichever brother you believed was the clone. Mathew and Alfred were nearly identical. It would have prompted jokes and many explanations about the difference between a fraternal and identical twins in another world. They had the same facial structures and body, but the differences were obvious. Mathew took after his mother. He was calm and collected with soft blond waves framing his face. He had his father's dark purple eyes. Meanwhile Alfred oozed charisma. He knew how to use their mothers baby blues. But he had never bothered to learn how to tame his hair into curls or straighten them out, so he kept his hair short and left his cowlick alone.

The truly unheard part of his family's decision was to raise the clone. They were supposed to be kept waiting until they were needed. Clones weren't strictly human, genomes aside, and so they weren't treated as such.

The only other clone they had ever 'met' was kept in a temperature-controlled tube with a frosted lid. Their parents had been furious that their "sons" had snuck off in the middle of a party. Although they did seem to enjoy making snide comments the whole way home about how tacky their hosts set up was. "It's like they pulled the whole thing out of an old black and white movie," Mathew remembered his father remarking. Then he had proudly looked over at the boys in the back seat.

Queue rumor number two...

The Jones-Williams' were in dire financial straits. Mathew never understood why his parents allowed the rumor to circulate. If true, it made them outsiders in their world of glamourous wealth. Even as just a rumor the belief could damage the clout and wealth that made them the Jones-Williams'.

Then there was the third rumor. The Jones-Williams had been fooled.

Keeping up appearances of wealth while having nothing was something that happened to even the best of families. Of course, nobody ever talked about that except to praise some great grandfather that had saved it all or it was hissed spitefully in the corner of some charity gala.

Being made a fool of was another matter entirely. It made you the damned cur that tarnished the family name. And if you couldn't trust someone to handle their own affairs, how could you trust them with a joint business venture?

Mathew could only assume that keeping the rumors circulating kept everyone from investigating one or the other too closely. Knowing his mother, it was probably helped along with massive amount of hush money. So, no one ever found out the answer to who had supposedly scammed or was willing to do halfhearted cloning for the Jones-William's.

The answer to that question was one Dr. Arthur Kirkland, a genius chosen by their parents before he had even finished grad school. He was a bold choice being so young, but he had started graduate school well before most people started college. In fact, Mathew was reasonably sure that the Doctor's final thesis had been written watching as the clone he created grow. The idea of Dr. Kirkland reading aloud scowling down at his drafts like a mother reading bedtime stories to her swollen belly was something both of the brothers found amusing.

He heard that there were people in academia and labs around the world cursing his parents for snapping him up and wasting him as a lab tech and personal physician. His parents weren't particularly bothered by this. If they ever thought about it, it was probably with glee or self-pride. They had no limit to the praise they gave Dr. Kirkland.

"He made their dreams come true," Mr. Jones-Williams would announce ruffling the boy's hair at breakfast or dinner or whenever he was feeling particularly pleased to have two boys at his table. "They had always planned on having a kid," his father stated and of course that meant having a clone. All according to plan. And then he would smile so broadly it almost looked like Alfred's smile, but with more lines and rolls.

Their mother didn't say anything like that. She was as frugal with her words and affection as she was with the company's budget. Mathew had only heard her opinion on the whole thing once.

One winter night at the family's holiday cottage, Mrs. Jones-Williams sat with her boys. Their dad had decided that he would rather sleep than watch the Lion King again and Alfred had fallen asleep with his head in her lap. She was absently petting his hair with one hand while the other held a wine glass. She watched Alfred's chest rise, then the snow, and finally she looked at Mathew. She set down her wine glass and brushed back Mathew's hair. "You know I love you," she murmured softly, "but I don't think I would have ever considered having you without Alfred." The words were all of Alfred's bluntness with Mathew cold logic. The honesty was how she showed affection outside of lavish and surprisingly thoughtful gifts.

Nobody had ever explained the processes to either of them.

He knew there were tests, injections, and surgeries. His parents always made sure they were as minimally invasive as possible, especially when they were little. Each boy had to have blood drawn and every aspect of them compared. Clones were made to be exact copies and if one of them started deviating from the other without intervention it could mean that their body was unstable.

Dr. Kirkland called the process magic. Alfred had said "bullshit" and declared that he would unravel all of the doctor's secrets. That was probably why Alfred was considering a career in bioengineering. Sparking Alfred's interest may have been Dr. Kirkland's intention. While their parents didn't have a favorite son, Dr. Kirkland did. Although Mathew wasn't sure if this was because Alfred took an interest in what Dr. Kirkland did or if the doctor had sown the seeds because Alfred was his favorite.

Mathew knew that Dr. Kirkland let Alfred know more about the surgeries than Mathew did. For the most part, the boys had their appointments together except when one or the other was in the MRI or giving a urine sample. During their appointments the doctor would kneel between the boys and say something along the lines of, "Now this injection, Mathew, is to help with accelerated healing." Then Mathew would watch the needle the push in.

Then at night Alfred would slip into Mathew's bed and whisper the things Dr. Kirkland had explained. "Nano bites Matt, they're these little robots. I don't know exactly how they do it. But it's to do with healing and isn't that so cool." And Alfred would press his finger against the dinosaur band aid covering the small prick and trace a finger along his veins. Mathew would shiver and Alfred would press closer, abandoning the triceratops to wrap his arms around Mathew. "Are you cold?" He would murmur into his hair.

He never was.

Mathew carefully slid his textbooks back into his locker letting his fingers linger over their gleaming covers. Beside him Alfred's back crashed into the door of his own locker. Anyone else would be hissing in pain, but Alfred merely laughed at Mathew's jolt.

"No homework," Alfred sang. "You know what that means Mattie?" Alfred opened his locker and proceeded to drop his books inside.

"You coming to the game, Jones?" A student with a football jacket broke in. Despite himself, Mathew felt his eyes narrowing at him. He didn't want any of their peers to know how much they bothered him. The boy, Mathew didn't know his name, pressed closer to Alfred. Alfred smiled indulgingly back at him.

Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. "Aww man, you know I can't. My parents would flip."

The student shot a dirty look at Mathew over Alfred's shoulder. Even if either of them denied it, and in the past they had, no one believed that Mathew would not snitch on Alfred. They never considered that Mathew might want to go either. Not that any of their peers wanted to "waste their time" on Mathew.

The truth of it was their parents didn't need to be told. Among the many procedures a small chip had been injected into one of them. Since one never went anywhere without the other, their parents always knew where they were.

"Besides, I got a movie date," Alfred continued pulling Mathew close and ruffling his hair.

"Al! no," Mathew protested although it was too late to save his hair.

The student glanced away trying to skirt around the obvious affection. "Well maybe next time…" Alfred was already shaking his head. "Or maybe you could try out next year. Become one of us."

Alfred grinned at that. "Join up my senior year? Like I know I look like I could. And yeah I could probably wipe the floor with you guys." The student looked like he wanted nothing more than to have Alfred wipe the floor with him. "But dude, even if my parents agreed, it'd be a disaster." Mathew privately agreed for so many reasons. "It'd throw you guys off having to play sidekick to me and I thought you guys were going to go for five years in a row of domination." The boy said something more and squeezed Alfred's bicep. Then he was gone, Alfred yelling that, "They're going to have to drag me back here Monday."

Shutting his locker Alfred headed to the school's doors. Mathew followed half a step behind. "Sorry about that," Alfred said to Mathew between the shouted goodbyes at other students. Mathew shrugged.

Their chauffer was waiting to take them back to their empty home. The driver never said a word to them, and they never said a word back. After the gummy worm incident, their mother had become fond of saying that their staff, "works for us. They're here to make a living not to be your friend." All their staff had signed gag orders upon hiring, but their parents still limited the staff's access to everything. The cleaning staff came by twice a week and as needed. Their driver had strict orders as to where and when the boys were to be transported. The more staff that could be directly programmed and controlled with wires, the better.

Their car paused at the gates to their house. The driver swiped a card, pressed a finger down on a panel, typed a code, and continued. It dropped them off and drove away in short order.

Once alone at the door to the house, the brothers stopped once more. Mathew typed in their code without a thought. Alfred hesitated, almost as if he had to think about it, then leaned close to the door's scanner and waited for it to trace the shape of his eye.

Mathew caught a glimpse of a frown. "Al?"

Alfred looked at him as he opened the door. The slight downturn of lips was now a full-blown scowl. "That thing's too slow. Can you imagine what it'll be like in December? I'm already starting to freeze in the morning. Wait here."

Alfred threw his bag on the ground by the door and made a bee line to the kitchen pantry. Mathew set his bag on the table calling out, "weakling." He slipped off his shoes and set them beside Alfred's mess. It should have been impossible, but Alfred had managed to track dirt inside. Mathew wouldn't have thought he had the time to sneak outside today during classes. Although there was no doubt that Alfred always loved a challenge.

Alfred emerged a few minutes later with arms filled with snacks. "Want anything before we go down?"

"Did you get lost in there?"

"Mathew Williams, snacks are a serious business." Alfred said this with the most serious expression he could muster. Then he snorted and continued. "Seriously theaters make more money there than-"

"Just popcorn's fine," Mathew said before Alfred could launch into another wandering rant. He'd already got one in today.

"And gummy worms," Alfred said with a surprisingly small amount of teasing in his voice. Mathew nodded. He held the door open. The lights turned on before their feet hit the first step. The brothers descended, skipping the third step from the bottom automatically.

Their basement was sophisticated entertainment center. Which was a glorified way of saying it was a _stylish_ home theater and pool room. The pool table was there more for their father's guests than anyone else. Three walls were painted a deep maroon and the fourth was a screen. They could play all the major video games and feel as if they were truly stomping around the woods, in the middle of a battlefield, or growing plants.

It was tradition for them to take turns choosing movies. Mathew preferred comedies or dramas. Alfred's choices tended to be blockbuster superheroes, science fiction, and horror movies that had him creeping into Mathew's bed in the middle of the night like they were five again.

Alfred flopped onto the dark leather sofa. He tossed an old copy of Frankenstein onto Mathew's spot on the couch. Mathew picked it up as he sat down. He turned it over in his hands frowning at the monster's grey outstretched hands. It wasn't a big deal but- Mathew glanced at Alfred's back. "Where did you get this?"

"A friend."

"Al, what friend?" They didn't have friends. They had acquaintances and peers. A twinge of half formed jealousy formed in Mathew's chest.

"Just a friend."

"That guy you were talking to?" He saw the question in Alfred's eyes and continued. "With the football jacket."

"No dude. I don't even know that guy's name."

"He seemed to know you".

"Everybody thinks they know me. "

"Does your friend really know you?" The sentence was heavy with unsaid meanings.

Alfred shot him a very unimpressed look. "Do you think I'm stupid? The only ones that know me are family."

And Dr. Kirkland, Mathew wanted to add. But he didn't think the correction would go over well. Alfred was already pouting, and he hadn't eaten any more popcorn since Mathew had brought up the guy from school. Instead he searched for safer topics. If he wanted any sleep tonight, Alfred could not be allowed to focus on the screen for too long. "Do you think Dr. Kirkland would have a Noble Prize if he didn't work for us?"

Alfred tilted his head to think. "Yeah, sorry, I can't picture that. He'd have to go all respectable. No more Frankenstein."

"Frankenstein? Alfred is that what you think of…", how could he say this? Cloning seemed to cold. "His work?" Alfred looked back at Mathew silent. "Al," Mathew whispered around his heart.

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't be dramatic Mattie. I didn't mean anything by it. It was a joke. You know, because we're watching Frankenstein. If Arthur or one of us was going to go crazy and start killing people, we definitely would have done it by now. Besides can you picture him sneaking around, digging up corpses? Think of all the mud."

Mathew's lips twitched. He wanted to correct his brother's casual disrespect. He could at least say Dr. Arthur or something. But he supposed that those two had a very different relationship than the one Mathew had. Besides his mother had given up years ago. "You know he gardens right. I don't think the mud would bother him."

"Well damn, we're all doomed then. Do you want to call dibs on the role of beautiful fiancé or should I? Although I guess the maid's just as pretty." They both laughed. Alfred's attention returned to the screen.

Mathew eyed his brother. He opened his mouth and tasted the possibility of his next words. "Al, you know that college you were talking about?"

Al's eyes flickered to Mathew before returning to the screen. He shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth and grinned while chunks fell out. "Yeah what about it? You saying I couldn't get in?"

Mathew ignored his brother's disgusting display of half-chewed popcorn. He knew they'd been taught table manners, but Alfred just loved to rebel. "It is in Germany."

Alfred's smile flickered and then resumed with all its previous intensity. There was no matching happiness in his eyes. "Yeah I know. Doesn't matter anyways."

Mathew's stomach turned. His parents were protective. If they weren't then there wouldn't be two of them sitting here. Going out of the country was a pipe dream for Alfred. "Do you really want to?"

"Doesn't matter," Alfred droned returning his attention to the screen.

'"No, Al." Mathew bit his lip. "Do they have a business program?" He had Alfred's full attention again.

"Mattie," Alfred leaned closer, tilting his head from one side than the other. "Do you really want to?"

Mathew let out a breathless laugh. "Doesn't matter."

"Mattie!"

"Well do they," Mathew insisted. Alfred sat back. His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head again. His eyes drifted over Mathew's face. Suddenly he sprang to his feet. Popcorn spilled onto the floor. "Alfred!" Mathew cried. A little round robot emerged from under the pool table where it had been waiting for the inevitable mess.

"I'll get my laptop." Alfred rushed to the stairs.

"You know you have a phone," Mathew called after him as Alfred disappeared up the steps. Mathew examined the disappearing mess beside him. He flicked more popcorn to the floor where the robot could gobble it up. He paused the movie and leaned back on the arm rest holding his face in his palm.

Alfred was usually more careful about food. It was nice to see him so genuinely excited. Although Alfred always acted excited about everything. But there was difference between his zest for life and him being enthused about something. The latter was almost exclusively reserved for his unrequited competition with Dr. Kirkland.

Mathew took a sip of his coke and glanced at the clock. Was Alfred pulling up the college website upstairs or bringing down a poster? Alfred had a habit of doing that, making posters of things he thought weren't going to happen. If Mathew had been so inclined to psychoanalyze people, he would say that the posters were Alfred's way of letting go of an idea.

Mathew glanced at the clock again. Maybe the poster had been hidden in the back of the closet. Or he could be making replacement popcorn. Mathew listened. He didn't hear any popcorn being made, just footsteps above him. Mathew sighed and stood up. If he didn't pry Alfred out of whatever he was getting into they wouldn't finish the movie tonight and Alfred would want to start the whole thing over again tomorrow.

The footsteps started to head to the basement door. Mathew crossed his arms and waited to hear Alfred struggle to open the door while balancing his laptop and whatever else he had been looking around for. He would be ready to catch whatever came tumbling down, whether it was snacks or his brother's body.

There was no struggle.

The footsteps started down. Mathew crossed his arms and fixed his best I-love-you-but-I'm-judging-you-so-hard expression on. No doubt Alfred had everything precariously balanced. Perhaps with something on top of his head. Although he really should have learned his lesson after the last time. Electronics, and pudding never mixed well and Alfred-

Cold dread washed the memory away. The steps had creaked on the third step. They had learned years ago that they would get caught sneaking down to watch late night TV if they didn't avoid it. It had become second nature. They never stepped on it.

That was not Alfred.

Mathew wanted to fling himself behind the coach or run or bite or- He saw a light on the little robot blink rapidly as it disappeared back under the pool table. He took a deep shuttering breath. He had to stall.

A man came down the stairs. He was dressed in black. The fabric on his head was bunched together, pushed up so that is was not currently a mask, but could easily return to one. He had gloves. He had no intention of being identified after the deed was done. And he was not going to leave anyone behind that could do so. A gun was held loosely in his hand.

"There you are. Now there's no need to scream. We've already taken care of your template."

Alfred. Unbidden images arose in his mind. Alfred crumpled on a tile floor. Bruises along his neck and lips tinged blue. Blood running down steps. Iron and death lingering on the air. Red smeared across walls.

Mathew bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood.

Not now. How could this happen now?

There had been no signs. No. Fuck, the door! Of course, Alfred wasn't worried about how long it had taken to open. There must have been something he had noticed. The dirt inside the door, maybe. He wanted to look at the man's feet, but he kept staring into the man's dead eyes.

His stomach rolled. He squeezed his eyes shut. His hands started to shake with adrenaline. He clenched his hands into fists. Tighter. Tighter, until his nails bit into skin. They didn't expect him to fight back. They didn't expect anything from him but to die easily. As long as they thought he would be easy prey they wouldn't attack, not yet. He had to hold out just a little longer.

A second set of footsteps started down the stairs. Steady and calm. Experienced and completely in their element.

His stomach rolled. Bile rose in his throat. He choked it down.

The man ambled forward. His gun held casually at his side. He would never expect a clone to resist. He reached out almost as if he was going to touch Mathew. Then he laughed when Mathew flinched back. Mathew knew he wouldn't be able to control himself if he was touched. No matter what happened next, he was determined stay calm. He would not cry. He would not scream. He would not lash out. No matter what happened he would not throw up. Not this time.

The man called up the stairs. "You sure we have to kill him too? He has to have his uses." The second set of steps paused. The man grinned. "I mean, I know he's a clone and all, but there's got to be some organs good to sell. A kidney's a kidney, you know. It's not like they're not going to waste time looking for him, especially not bits of him." The man leered at Mathew, "Kind of pointless to keep a clone of a dead kid."

The footsteps continued. The third step did not creak.

Mathew's hand covered his mouth. The person on the steps laughed, short and sharp. Mathew's jaw clenched. It was all over now.

"Wha-" the man exclaimed.

Warm thick liquid splattered against Mathew's cheek.

"Three to zero. And I'm the hero!" Alfred laughed.

Mathew opened his eyes slowly. Alfred was crouched next to the corpse. His head quirked to the side to better watch the blood and brain matter leaking onto the floor. He wasn't touching the body, but his hands were red. There were wet splotches of purple on Alfred's blue shirt. Stab wounds. They had stabbed him.

"Al," he crocked.

Alfred's head snapped up to look at him. Red clung to the collar of his shirt. More blood was smeared along his collar bone. His eyes were bright blue with an inhuman light lurking in their depths. A smile lingered on his lips. They had cut his brother's throat too. No wonder they had believed that Alfred was dead or close enough to continue with their plan.

Mathews hand came up to his own neck. He slowly started to breathe again.

"Yeah," Alfred pressed. Mathew bit his lip. His hands fluttered in a nervous gesture. "Oh," Alfred said, "Oh yeah. Can you call the cleaners?"

"They're already on the way," Mathew whispered. He turned back to the couch. He didn't know how long his legs would hold him up for. Most likely as soon as the adrenaline wore off, he would collapse. He knew from experience that it would be all too soon.

"Oh," Alfred chirped. "Robots are awesome." The couch cushion shifted as Alfred settled down on it.

"Yeah." Mathew laid his head down. His feet hung over the arm. He peered up at his brother. "Are you healed yet?"

"Still sore, but that's not going to last long. I'll call Arthur." He ran his fingers threw Mathew's bangs. "Are you good?"

"Yes," Mathew sighed.

"Because I saved you," Alfred said with a bright smile.

"Yeah, you did."

"Wanna finish the movie while we wait?"

"Might as well." The screen lit up. For a moment the monster's dead eyes stared frozen at them as Alfred pulled the remaining popcorn into his lap. The monster lurched forward to capture its next victim as Alfred hummed happily. Mathew let his eyes drift shut.

* * *

AN: If you have the time please leave a review. They're extremely helpful for improvement and inspiration. Thank you for your time regardless. I hope you enjoyed this fic.

There will be some sequels/companion pieces to this. If there's anything that you're interested in let me know.


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